


To Be Worshipped, Wholly

by Euterpein



Series: Ficlets/Event Fills [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Blasphemy, M/M, Oral Sex, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpein/pseuds/Euterpein
Summary: Aziraphale knew a thing or two aboutholiness. He had spent an eternity in Her divine light, had bathed in the Grace which had coursed through him since his creation, had believed it had cleansed him even unto Godliness. Holiness was his stock-in-trade, his raison d'être.And yet...andyet, even through all those years he had spent in service to Her, he had never felt asholyas he did when he was like this.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ficlets/Event Fills [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875394
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78
Collections: Name That Author Round Six





	To Be Worshipped, Wholly

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the sixth round of the "Guess that Author" game on the GO Events Server! The prompt was "No conversation's a good place to start...I wanna speak in tongues."
> 
> Please mind the blasphemy tag! It's not kidding around.

Aziraphale knew a thing or two about _holiness_. He had spent an eternity in Her divine light, had bathed in the Grace which had coursed through him since his creation, had believed it had cleansed him even unto Godliness. Holiness was his stock-in-trade, his raison d'être.

And yet...and _yet_ , even through all those years he had spent in service to Her, he had never felt as _holy_ as he did when he was like this. 

Crowley’s head was between Aziraphale’s plush thighs, his tongue buried deep within him, Aziraphale’s legs thrown over his shoulders. Aziraphale had one hand gripping those loose curls and one fisted tightly in the bedsheets, writhing and crying out at the merciless pleasure of Crowley’s tongue.

“Crowley--oh, darling, yes, that’s-- _ah!_ Ooooooh...”

Crowley was _good_ at this. No matter what form Aziraphale deigned to take at the time, he always approached him with the same determined desperation, eager and willing and _hungry_. He gave until Aziraphale was lost to the world and beyond, past all point of reason. He would give Aziraphale orgasm after orgasm until his thighs were shaking and his cheeks were wet with desperate tears, and only then would he give him _more_.

Crowley’s hands were restless. They stroked possessively over Aziraphale’s sides, over the soft swell of his belly. They gripped possessively at the meat of his arse before moving on yet again, never once losing the rhythm that was causing Aziraphale to slowly come undone. 

Aziraphale whined and gripped at Crowley’s hair a little harder, creating a temporary feedback loop where Crowley moaned with the sting of it, causing Aziraphale to in turn grip a little harder when the moan sent shockwaves through him. Aziraphale thrashed, whined, sticky and sweaty and absolutely _burning_ with pleasure while Crowley took care of him, while he _worshipped_ him.

And that was the rub, wasn’t it? Crowley was _worshipping_ him, pouring a divinity more pure and more heady than any he had ever felt at Her hands into his body with his tongue, his lips. Aziraphale could feel it pulse through him, robbing him of his senses, robbing him of all coherence, cleansing him of all his sins.

He was distantly aware that he was still babbling. He could still feel words tumbling from his throat, across his lips, but they no longer held any meaning beyond _yes_ and _please_ , and _oh, dear God_ , though he was no longer quite sure to whom he was referring. 

It didn’t matter; none of it did. 

His jumbled, meaningless words turned to formless moans as Crowley picked up his rhythm even further, his wonderfully long nose bumping right into Aziraphale’s clit as his tongue hit places within Aziraphale no tongue should have been able to reach, and he was lost. 

He cried out again, shrieking his rapture, as Crowley drank in his pleasure like the sweetest communion. 

Afterwards they lay together in sated silence, faces turned to one another and hands clasped, basking in their own holy light. 


End file.
